Of Strangers Met in a Strange Land
by LuvEwan
Summary: Obi-Wan has been tasked by the Jedi Council to retrieve his old Master from an extended sabbatical on a remote planet. But he has not spoken to Qui-Gon since achieving his Knighthood, and the Council has told him nothing of the mysterious circumstances leading up to the sabbatical itself.
1. Chapter 1

**Of Strangers Met in a Strange Land**

By LuvEwan

—

Then let us turn now — you to me  
And I to you — and hand to hand  
Clasp, even though our fable be  
Of strangers met in a strange land  
Who pause, perturbed, then speak and know  
That speech, half lost, can yet amaze  
Joy at the root; then suddenly grow  
Silent, and on each other gaze. -Robert Penn Warren

—-

Obi-Wan Kenobi was quite tired of mud. In his career as a Jedi he had encountered a diverse galaxy of planets, cultures, and life forms, and the one unifying trait between them all was wet dirt. He wagered he had spent a significant portion of his life cleaning his boots. With all that extra time, surely he could have achieved personal enlightenment, or mastered the highest level of kata, or—

Figured out how to dodge miserable missions, perhaps.

He had landed on Bikko as evening fell, at the end of a heavy rain. Now, a few hours into his trek, the air was moist and still. Glow bugs vibrated and burned against the darkness, to imitate the stars above them, little pure and molten things that even Obi-Wan could feel hum with the Living Force. He stopped to drink from his canteen, glimpsing the mild blue moon through a canopy of branches and leaves.

In the natural solitude, Obi-Wan could admit that this assignment made him uneasy. He was a Jedi Knight, unencumbered by personal devotion, seasoned in his role, especially after the last few years. The Universe was shifting. New and unexpected threats battered the Republic and strained the resources of the Jedi Order. Obi-Wan scarcely spent more than a day on Coruscant before being dispatched on another mission.

So it wasn't unusual, Obi-Wan reasoned, that he had not seen Qui-Gon Jinn since his Knighthood. Over the years a few passing nods were exchanged, eyes briefly meeting on a crossed path, but their relationship never evolved the way Obi-Wan always assumed it would. As a Padawan, he had dreamed of the day the legendary Master would regard him as an equal—a friend. Instead he knew only secondhand stories of Qui-Gon and his tutelage of Anakin Skywalker. He could accept that he didn't fit into his former mentor's full life anymore.

The problem was that no one had heard from Qui-Gon Jinn in weeks.

The man was supposed to be on Bikko for a personal retreat. Leave it to Qui-Gon Jinn to choose a mountaintop site, accessible after a long sojourn through thick forest, to spend his sabbatical.

 _And leave it to the Council to assign_ me _to disrupt him._

He didn't sense distress…he didn't sense Qui-Gon at all. And certainly the Master could manage if he was in danger. It was also possible he was no longer on Bikko, and simply neglected to inform the Council. But Obi-Wan would not shirk his duty, regardless if that duty was needed, regardless if it hurt his heart. He would get proof of Qui-Gon's welfare, report to Master Yoda and await his next assignment.

There was always more work to be done.

Fog drifted across the black sky. His mind seeped with old worries and sentiments, memories resurfacing like debris floating in muddied water after a storm. _I should have refused the Council's edict. Qui-Gon would have, if the situation was reversed._ Immediately he chastised himself for the bitter rumination and tromped back onto the trail. _He owes me nothing. He trained me. Saved my life. What more can I demand of him?  
_  
Obi-Wan had no answer, nor was one offered amid the nocturnal buzzing and rustling of the forest. He was frustrated that his thoughts circled again and again to Qui-Gon's willful distance. Jedi forged countless friendships, at the Temple, on missions, only to inevitably be called away by obligation. How many figures had revolved in and out of Obi-Wan's life? To cleave to any individual was against the Code. And foolish.

 _A true servant of the Force rejects attachment._

Perhaps this was the lesson Yoda sought to teach Obi-Wan by sending him to Bikko over Anakin. The remarkable boy from the desert must be a senior Padawan by now, more than capable of finding his own Master on a peaceful planet. Of course, it was not Obi-Wan's place to question the Council's decisions. His mission briefing was vague, listing nothing of the details behind Qui-Gon's respite, or clues to his current mental state.

The idea of reasoning with Qui-Gon Jinn in any state, confronting or, stars forbid, subduing him, sent cold dread through Obi-Wan's body. In his time as a Knight, he had persuaded tyrants, thwarted assassins and rushed headlong into battle. He knew he could handle Qui-Gon, if the situation demanded it.

He just hoped it wouldn't be necessary.

Obi-Wan gathered the Force around him, allowing its pure energy to clear his mind and dispel his exhaustion. The night was far from over.

—

It had been years since Qui-Gon Jinn last heard the lorngale's call, distinct in its sweet, melancholic softness, a delicate chiming and stirring of memory. It had been years, too, since he had thought of the birds.

He did not want to remember.

Yet the song grew closer, a faint breath in his ear, the Force alight with its notes. He recalled the lorngales and their eyes, an audience and jury and rapture of blue eyes. Another, quieter voice, lifting through the melodic cloud, coming from everywhere, within: _Don't_.

He choked on a gasp and his eyes flew open. For a moment he floundered in the darkness, expecting to see the sleek walls of his Temple quarters, instead finding the night sky at a noxious tilt, so close he thought he was still dreaming, winging alongside the lorngales.

Qui-Gon drew up to his elbows, panting. Clammy sweat clung to his back. The moon lit shapes with quiet incandescence: chair, sink, door. The cabin on Bikko. He oriented himself, suffusing his groggy mind with dry fact. Alone.

Except, he wasn't alone. He could feel another presence in the Force. A distant star, radiating familiar, steady light, and heading closer.

 _Damn it._ Qui-Gon threw aside the blankets and sprang up from the bedroll, pointedly ignoring the flurried pace of his heart. He stood in the shadowed room, breathing deeply. Meddlers. And no doubt Yoda, Wise Head of the Meddlers, was behind it. Not content to merely compel Qui-Gon into this period of isolation, now another meddler was being sent in the old Master's stead. More questions, judgement…from the last person he expected, or wanted, to explain himself.

Obi-Wan.

A base instinct urged Qui-Gon to flee, avoid the whole embarrassing encounter, to sweep clean the place of even a fingerprint and barrel off world before his ex-Padawan could reach the mountain. _You've done the same before,_ the voice whispered, _a thief in the night.  
_  
He could not argue that point. Numbly Qui-Gon prepared tea, less deft than usual as he brewed and poured. Droplets fell on the wooden table and he instinctively wiped them away,

 _fingers tracing through the warm moisture, his touch trembling and careful, but still more tears bled out, quicker than he could dash them away, streaming down the pallid cheeks, reserves broken, dignity undone._

 _Too late. He was too late. No no no no no—-  
_  
He sat his cup down with a severe clatter. Outside it was still black, the thick darkness of undisturbed forest, but he knew dawn was approaching, and Obi-Wan would come with that fresh light, carrying questions from the Council. Or worse, questions of his own.

Qui-Gon had to be prepared for them all.

—-

Obi-Wan traveled through the night, occasionally seeking out Qui-Gon's signature, but never grasping anything beyond the simple imprints of wildlife. Weariness burned behind his temples, nagging him to slow down, to rest. The limits of his own human endurance irritated and challenged him. As a crecheling, he had heard legends of Jedi so attuned to the Force's energy, their bodies no longer required basic necessities.

They ate of the Force, drank of the Force, surrendered all weakness and desire to the purity of its energy. He knew he would never achieve such communion, knew too that some legends were merely fairy tales. Still, when he was very tired or worried he could do no better, he thought of those ancestors, their complete accord with the Force. It was not such a terrible goal, though his friends in the Temple would undoubtedly roll their eyes. He had heard more than a few teasing comments concerning his earnestness.

 _You should laugh more_ , Bant had told him when they last spoke, during a rare handful of days he spent on Coruscant. _And stop skipping meals. There's more to life than duty, you know. Even for Jedi._

Of course, there was beauty to be appreciated, in the sky reflected on the water, in the carefree laughter of children. Obi-Wan _did_ notice and appreciate those things, but he experienced it all through the lens of his servitude to the Order, to the Force itself. He found it only enhanced his appreciation.

 _Eat of the Force, drink of the Force, surrender all weakness and desire._

He would not give in to his body, though it asked for sleep and decent food. He would not humor his mind, as it reminded him again and again of an unchangeable past.

He walked through the brush, ascending the mountain at a reasonable clip, meditating with his eyes open and his legs moving. He stopped searching for Qui-Gon Jinn. He let himself _be_ , and time slipped away from him.

He walked, until he knew he didn't need to walk anymore. He surfaced near the pinnacle, and breathed in the bracing, clean air, felt the peace of truly remote silence.

And there, at the edge of the cliff, sat a Jedi Master in meditation pose. Eyes closed, palms resting on knees, an aura of tranquility resonating so strongly in the Force to stir even the mountains.

Qui-Gin Jinn was the mountains, the trees, the endless sky. A Jedi in harmony with the Force could encompass everything. Obi-Wan hesitated to move any closer. Perhaps Master Yoda had been wrong to send him after all. He certainly felt wrong, like an intruder, trespassing onto sacred, private ground. Who was he to drag his former teacher back to the Temple? Who was he to Qui-Gon at all? For much of his life, the man had been his guiding star. But they were both older, and time had unbound those once-deep connections. The Council could have at least dispatched another Master instead, someone closer in station…

Qui-Gon emerged from his trance then, lifting his head towards the sky and inhaling as he opened his eyes.

Obi-Wan cursed under his breath. If he had hoped to slink away, the opportunity had passed. So instead he smoothed his robe, cleared his throat and stepped out into the sun.

"Master…" he hesitated, "Master Jinn?"

Dawn lit streaks in the long, graying hair. Clear blue eyes met his own, and for the first time in years, he heard his old teacher's voice. "Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon sounded only mildly surprised, as if they had run into each other in the Temple dining hall, rather than on a deserted mountain top on a distant planet. He rose in one swift, nimble motion and walked towards him.

Obi-Wan had forgotten how easily Qui-Gon towered over him, dwarfed him in physical and spiritual stature. Even dressed casually in a loose tabard and leggings, feet bare, the older Jedi was a figure of formidable grace. A lighter mane and a few more lines on his face were the only marks of the years gone by. For Obi-Wan, it was if his Knighthood and all the experiences that followed had evaporated, and he was a green Padawan again, eager to make a good impression. "Master." The younger man bowed, half expecting to feel a learner's braid swing over his shoulder. "Forgive my intrusion."

"Obi-Wan." Any emotion beneath his neutral gaze was imperceptible. He extended a hand towards his former apprentice, but paused, drawing back. "Why are you here?"

Obi-Wan could not suppress the painful twinge in his chest. _Blast. Why didn't they send anyone, anyone else?_ He swallowed. "The Council asked me to-"

"Ah, I see." Qui-Gon crossed his arms, the peace of his ablutions dissipating like the early morning's mist. The friction between the Master and the Jedi Council had not mellowed with time, it would seem. "They think I've been on my mandatory retreat too long." He explained, chuckling softly.

So this sabbatical was a punishment?

Qui-Gon Jinn was ever the maverick, more attuned to the Force, to instinct, than the demands of the Order. It was a quality that frustrated and even embarrassed Obi-Wan in his youth, but one he admired as a Knight. "Indeed, Master," Obi-Wan replied, slipping into his old role of peacekeeper, a comforting, well-worn rhythm, "They did say you've been...ignoring their efforts to communicate."

"Ignoring? I wouldn't go that far." Qui-Gon smirked. "I would call it prioritizing." He motioned to the vivid tableau around them. " I find the birds offer far more scintillating conversation than Master Windu. But I'm flattered they were worried enough to send a Knight of your esteem."

Sudden warmth radiated in Obi-Wan's cheeks. "I happened to be in the area." He felt Qui-Gon studying his face and struggled to keep his features schooled under the scrutiny. He could rarely hide his feelings from Qui-Gon, though much was different since last he tried. Obi-Wan had learned to wear the mask of Jedi calm that once eluded him. He was developing a reputation for it, in fact. That curated stoicism was part of the reason he was requested for so many delicate negotiations. Except his opponents in that arena were never this intimidating.

Finally, Qui-Gon reached out to squeeze his arm. "I'm glad. It's been…" He glanced at the horizon, "It's been too long, Knight Kenobi. I wouldn't want to blemish your record by refusing to accompany you back to Coruscant. But the locals already requested my presence to celebrate the new moon. Apparently they believe I'll bring good luck for the coming winter." He laughed. "I doubt the Council would agree about that. It's only a few days from now. Could the completion of your mission wait until then?"

Obi-Wan hesitated. He pictured the reaction of the Council. They had not sent him to Bikko to _join_ the retreat. But it was Qui-Gon asking him the favor. Qui-Gon. How often did he yearn for the man's advice and wisdom? And lament the distance between them? _It's only a few days…_ "It would be rude to reject their offer, especially after the kindness and hospitality they've shown you. " Obi-Wan decided, straightening, feeling lighter as he further convinced himself, "I think the Council would feel the same."

Qui-Gon smiled. A cool wind lifted the loose strands of hair around his face. "Excellent. I appreciate it, Obi-Wan."

The Force swelled. Potential fallout back at the Temple would be worth it. For Obi-Wan, in that moment, nothing had changed.

— 


	2. Chapter 2

The mist dissipated as they walked up the path. Qui-Gon glanced over at his former Padawan. Something in his chest tightened.

 _This was not a good idea_.

The Council was always chiding him for his lack of common sense, his insistence on a superior connection to the Living Force. Where the esteemed board saw blatant flouting of their sacred rules, he saw the truth: the will of the Force. He followed that current, instead of swimming against it.

But in this, in asking _Obi-Wan_ to stay with him, Qui-Gon knew he was not trying to satisfy any mystic demands. He had simply looked at the younger man, seeing him closer than he had in years, and his heart overruled all inner objections. He was making things exceptionally more difficult for himself, and it would have been _better_ if some other Knight had come, someone with whom Qui-Gon did not share years of history, years more of wordless distance.

He did not know if Obi-Wan would demand an explanation for the void in their friendship, because, he realized, he did not know Obi-Wan at all anymore. How had the demands of Knighthood and the war changed the kind and mild man he had taught?

"You are...feeling well these days, Obi-Wan?" He cringed inwardly. Being alone on a mountaintop did not help _improve_ social grace.

Obi-Wan just smiled at him. "Yes, thanks. You?"

Qui-Gon held aside an overgrown bush so they could pass. "On forced sabbatical but other than that, fine."

A gentle laugh. "I take it you and the Council have not warmed to each other since I was Knighted?"

"We remain cold and distant, as I prefer." Qui-Gon quipped.

Obi-Wan misstepped and nearly slid on the rocks beneath them.

 _Shavit._ He had not meant—-

"Whatever gets the job done, I suppose." Obi-Wan responded after a moment, composure unruffled. "So you must have impressed the locals. Or are they the sort of beings who confuse Jedi with gods?"

Qui-Gon smirked. "Somewhere in between. They know I'm human but maintain that I am magic."

"I remember being thirteen years old and thinking the same thing."

Qui-Gon knew it was meant in kindness. It still hurt in a way he could not afford to examine. "And then you got to know me better and came to your senses."

"Ahhh," Obi-Wan shook his head, smiling, "According to Master Windu following my mission to Kashyyyk, I am utterly without sense."

Qui-Gon stopped to wipe the gathering sweat from his brow. He wondered if it was possible to finish his hike without breathing at all. "If that is the case," he responded softly, "there is little hope for the rest of us."

"And how is Anakin faring under your tutelage? I admit I was surprised when the Council did not send him to retrieve you."

 _No, this was not a good idea._ "Anakin is fulfilling his potential. He has made me very proud."

Obi-Wan nodded, smiling again with his mouth closed. "I'm glad to hear it."

"Have you given any thought to taking a Padawan of your own? I imagine any initiate would clamor at the chance to be apprenticed by _The Negotiator_."

His companion groaned. "I _do not_ encourage that damnable sobriquet. And I'm not on Coruscant often enough to visit the Initiate's Wing. I'm lucky to visit my own bed."

"You're lucky to still have your head. We weren't meant to be soldiers. We are peacekeepers, even if the Council doesn't quite remember." Qui-Gon was always on the verge of defection now, as the Order became less and less recognizable. He had stayed for Anakin. For Obi-Wan, even if they were strangers. "But I know you don't exactly have a choice in the matter."

Obi-Wan stiffened. "We always have a choice, Master. We aren't slaves."

"Or clones." Qui-Gon countered. "Here, turn here."

They wove through heavy brush and climbed a steep hill, the momentary tension eased by the shared exertion.

When the humble shelter appeared, Qui-Gon chanced to speak again. "It is good to hear you call me Master." The air was cooler up here.

Obi-Wan wore an imperceptible expression. He had learned to do that long before, back when he was still an apprentice, as Qui-Gon recalled. Anakin could never quite hide his emotions behind the Jedi mask like that.

"What else would I call you?" Obi-Wan asked.

Qui-Gon did not know how to answer that question, and so he didn't. The years of separation had made him clumsy, where once there had been an ease of closeness, of anticipating the other's next word. For that, he could blame no one but himself. "I must warn you, the accommodations are rather...cozy."

"Ah yes, the universal euphemism for _small and run-down_." Obi-Wan surveyed the little hovel, with its crumbling wall, roof half-eaten by rain and time.

"It's not as bad as it looks." Qui-Gon assured him. Certainly they had made do with much worse, back when they were Master and Padawan. "For example, there are no bladder-bug infestations."

Obi-Wan dried his forehead with his sleeve. "Are you sure about that?"

"After the mission to Akiva, how could I forget?"

But of course it would seem to anyone Qui-Gon had forgotten many things, or chosen to forget them. Obi-Wan was too polite to remark on that. He was gazing out at the view, tree tops and silent mountains, all dappled in the fresh sun. "Perhaps I should get the Council to send me on sabbatical."

Qui-Gon laughed. "Just irritate them for a good half a century, and they will."

In the morning light, Obi-Wan's eyes were blue like clear water, or a cloudless sky, and Qui-Gon could see beneath the necessary veneer of Knighthood, to the still-young man beneath it. He remembered now that sunshine made auburn hair glow red and blonde at the tips. "Come to think of it, I'm surprised it's taken them this _long_ to send you away." Obi-Wan drawled, "Except, I think Master Yoda is secretly in your corner. At least, that's how it always seemed to me."

Obi-Wan standing beside him while he received his rebukes and punishments before the Council, his proper and obedient apprentice routinely mortified by Qui-Gon's defiance. "It must have been a relief to strike out on your own, and follow the rules for once." Qui-Gon smiled, leading them up to the cabin's door.

"It was awhile before I was deemed fit to be on my own. I didn't feel much relief when I finally was."

 _Force._ Qui-Gon wondered if it would be inappropriate to fall to his knees now and beg for forgiveness, in exchange for no more honest answers. _I should have been the one to help you when you weren't ready. I ran away. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. "_ Well, it would appear you have flourished in your role. Yoda may look the other way when it comes to my exploits, but you have always been one of his favorites."

"Yoda doesn't have favorites," Obi-Wan demurred. "Any more than a Master has a favorite Padawan."

"I can confidently say my own Master had a favorite. I can confidently say it wasn't me." Qui-Gon swung open the old wood door. "Here we are. Now that you're here, I believe the place has reached maximum capacity."

It was only a partial joke.

"The cabin was originally built by a hermit, the villagers say. He got tired of people and moved up here, only coming down to gather food and complain."

Obi-Wan surveyed the cramped space and looked at Qui-Gon. "Sounds...familiar."

"Now, now," Qui-Gon took a few steps into the kitchen, gathering supplies for tea, "If I lived here, I would have nothing to complain about. There's a chair."

One chair, the legs beginning to succumb to mildew. Obi-Wan stood. "Where is the 'fresher?"

Qui-Gon glanced up, holding in a smile. "Does it seem like there's room for a 'fresher in here? I like to think nature provides wherever we need it."

Obi-Wan grumbled something about " _uncivilized"_ and walked out the door.

Qui-Gon returned to his task, ignoring the slight tremor in his hands

* * *

The needs of his body taken care of, Obi-Wan lingered outside the cabin. Bikko was undeniably beautiful, suffused with a simple calm, but he could borrow none of it to soothe his nerves. What had he gotten himself into? He was supposed to retrieve Qui-Gon and move on. That would have been the easier thing to do. Small talk on the ship, and then they would part ways on Coruscant, return to their separate lives. Now he would need to find days' worth of pleasantries to exchange with the man who had spent years completely avoiding him.

No, not completely. There had been a few notes in the early months, while he was still recovering, but even those had petered off as, Obi-Wan assumed, Qui-Gon grew busier with Anakin.

 _He asked me to stay. He didn't have to. He could have walked away._

A petty voice somewhere in his depths answered, _He is good at walking away._

But he was not a child, far from it, and he would not entertain such thoughts. He would enjoy spending this rare time with the man who raised him, and leave the spirits of old hurt where they belonged.

He watched birds gather on a tree branch, marveling that their shared song sounded different from the songs of other birds, every bird on every world having their own unique music.

* * *

"Do you still take your tea plain?" Qui-Gon asked, handing his guest a chipped and discolored cup. There was no common area, so they sat cross-legged on his bedroll, dirt-dusted boots left by the door.

"Yes, thank you." Obi-Wan took a sip and made a satisfied sound in the back of his throat. "That's very good."

Qui-Gon lifted an eyebrow. "That is the strongest brew of mudleaf. I expected at least a shudder."

Obi-Wan drank deeply and smiled. "Mudleaf _is_ on the more powerful end of mild. Lately I've been enjoying pepper tea, when I can find it."

"Your tastes have certainly changed." Qui-Gon said.

"I wouldn't say changed as much as evolved." Obi-Wan drained the cup and set it beside him. "I'm an old man now, after all."

"In that case, I'm ancient." Qui-Gon noticed the red veins streaking through the whites of the Knight's eyes, the subtle slump of his shoulders as he leaned against the wall. "It would not offend me whatsoever if you rested, Obi-Wan. I know the journey here is laborious. We can catch up after you've had some sleep."

"I haven't been sleeping much, as of late." Obi-Wan told him. "But I would take more tea, if you can spare it."

Qui-Gon started to rise, but Obi-Wan stilled him with a hand on his leg. "I didn't mean for you to get it, Master. But thank you."

He watched Obi-Wan stand at the sink, struck by the surreal quality of the moment, having his old Padawan here, where he had expected to be left alone. "Why aren't you sleeping? The rigors of war?"

Obi-Wan sat again, holding the steaming cup between his hands. "Self-training, I suppose. Exhaustion dulls the senses."

"That would appear to be an argument in favor of _more_ sleep." Qui-Gon pointed out.

"If you train your body to become less reliant on physical comforts, you sharpen your connection to the Force. Or so, that is the theory." Obi-Wan explained. "So far I've only replaced some sleeping sessions with meditation."

"Even Yoda sleeps," Qui-Gon reminded him. "I admit to favoring the unorthodox, but this seems rather...extreme, Obi-Wan."

"War is defined by constant extremes. I simply want to be as prepared as I can be."

Qui-Gon detected an edge of irritation in Obi-Wan's tone. _I will send him flying out of here before midday._ "I can understand that. Though while you're here, you needn't be so...prepared. Bikko is a peaceful world. The people are generous, though they keep their distance."

"Just your type then." Obi-Wan said, and went to set his empty cup in the sink.

" _Obi-Wan-_

 _I am sorry I cannot be there. Healer Che says you are improving. I am glad._

 _Qui-Gon."_

" _Master,_

 _I cannot hold a data pad or speak very well yet. I am writing you with the help of Healer Eerin. Thank you for contacting me. Yes, I am improving. The healers think I will make a full recovery, in time. I hope you are doing well, and Anakin also. I am sorry you are not here. Master Yoda said I have been Knighted and my braid is gone. Did you cut my braid? I wish I had been aware of it. I wanted to thank you for all you have done for me. I hope I can thank you in person soon._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Obi-Wan."_


End file.
